I quit my job Sunday night. As much as I would like to thank Ulta for all the oppurtunities that the company provided me the last three years... I decided that the new management bitches were just too pathetic and power-hungry to fucking work with.
What was Julia (my ex-boss) thinking when she hired these people?!!
They had no team work ethic. They had no supportive or positive mentality.
They made the working environment absolutely poisonous with wrath, shit-talking, and backstabbing that I just couldn't stand to keep my one day a week. One day!!! Imagine. If I couldn't fathom four hours a week there, the poor girls actually working there 40 hours a week with these insecure nuts must be going through some absolutely unbearable inner torment.
Half the people I met when I started, got promoted to manager, and then backed (involuntarily - I wanted to quit entirely then, since my son was suffering from some pretty severe asthma at the time, but to be nice when Julia asked me to stay, I agreed to for one day a week) back down as an a associate, had left and quit like dropping flies. Supposedly, it happened twice as fast with the new store manager. I don't know her well enough to hate her or not like her, but from what the other girls have told (on my one day a week) she isn't any good at her job at all and bearly any of them can stand her or my old boss (who with all honestly I actually liked a lot and admired my old boss for her levelheadedness and ability to withdraw from catty company bullshit.)
The new manager, who actually filled my last same position, would keep me an hour after closing, every Tuesday, to sweep floors, mop entry ways, and other janitorial crap - even while I was wearing my splint wrists with a doctors note stating that I should be on wrist rest. By the end of the night at 10:21 pm,(I should leave at 9:30 pm) as I was nicely asking permission to leave since my husband was waiting outside in the parking lot for me, she made me sweep the entire store as a "last favor." Though my right hand had nearly swelled up twice it's size, I did it half assed, and scurried my way out the door.
The nights "last favor" was truly meant as literate as the words could possibly be.
Fucking bitches. The inner witch in me wishes upon her to sprain both her wrists as well just so she could see how it feels to be as handicapped as I was.
I hate her so much I can barely remember her name.
Oh! and the new prestige manager gets picked up by this semi fake low-rider fresh from the ghetto car, painted two tone in orange and purple, with like - I don't know - 36 inch silver shiny UGLY rims. Not to mention, everytime she gets in it she looks at me, talking on her cellphone, like I should be jealous. Way to make mom proud, dumbass. But this is just some exra goodies added to my wonderful reasons of quitting a job that I once loved so much and now hate so impetuously.
Partially my problem is that I can never say the word "No"..Did we already delve on this subject? Anyways, easily, I could have said I don't want to because my wrist was hurting but she asked and I looked and I could not say no. So, depsite my agony, I did it anyway - with so much regret and resentment that I conjured up the finalization to quit this now very stupid job once and for all.
I am now unemployed. I made this site so I could write and add a new title to my many job titles.
Although now with no "real" job - I am now a "Blogger". The first story I get printed, I shall become a "Freelance Writer." And my writing abilities will then charismatically take over the world...yay!
I have alway loved to write, and since I could remember people enjoyed the things that I did write. I have an unusual knack for it, where it comes so easy. Like fluid from my fingers. I am gifted enough to be able to write a ten page thesis in three hours...and yes I am boasting. And yes I am proud about that.
Maybe this is my real calling.
All of the jobs that I have had has led me to who I am today.
The bookstore job reawakened my love for books and led me to my other love, Johnny.
My Family Resource Center job taught how to deal with kids, which is now so useful when dealing with my 4 year old son, and which I think makes me a better parent.
and Ulta...well, now that I am getting older, I notice how much more I am going to need make-up in order to feel good about myself. (Also, working there. I've witnessed some pretty great people. Yes...many strong, sufficient women that I really admired and adored.)
and yessssss... Getting older sucks.
For my 24th birthday, I gave myself some fine lines under my lashes.
Thank God for Ulta, for introducing me to Elizabeth Arden's Ceramide line..They've diminished by the thousandths...
GROWING OLD = SO NOT FUN> but better than dying abruptly and unfinished.
Thanks for reading...
and a have a good day.
Don't let your 9-5's wash away your dreams and in the words of the great (and not to mention super duper hot and sexy) Rob Thomas:
All lives are made in these small hours, these little wonders, these twists and turns of fate.Time flows away but in these small hours, we'll remain...
I don't feel a bit bad that I quit. I don't feel bad that I will be a couple hundred dollars poorer either. I know that things will be fine.
Always,
Mira
Pictured above - The girls and I, during Ulta's good ol' days.
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